


If There Were Two Red Strings of Fate…

by Raishiteru



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raishiteru/pseuds/Raishiteru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…which one would you choose?</p>
<p>Neither, of course.</p>
<p>Because…</p>
<p>Your name is Dave Strider.</p>
<p>And you don’t believe in shitty fairytales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If There Were Two Red Strings of Fate…

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a really long time ago for the Homestuck Shipping Olympics, but forgot about it until now, asdfghjkl, g o m e n.

 

…which one would you choose?

Neither, of course.

Because…

Your name is Dave Strider.

And you don’t believe in shitty fairytales.

Okay, maybe you once did, but where did that get you?

Nowhere.

God fucking damn it. You stare at your hand. On one hand, a single red thread stands out in stark contrast against your pale skin, going straight off into the distance. On the other hand, the thread hangs loosely.

Severed.  
Broken.  
Lifeless.

Ever since The Game (you’ve all made an agreement to refer to it specifically in capital letters) started, you’ve been seeing these so-called “red strings of fate;” now that you’ve ascended to God Tier, they’ve become even clearer. Apparently, the others can see them, too, but not like you do. John only sees them when he’s flying high in the sky, and he reports them as “a tangled mess that I can’t make sense of, bluh!” Rose says they fade in and out of her vision, because “a Seer of Light is not to choose what to see, but is given something to see.” Jade says she sees them all the time, but “they always lead me to a tear in the fabric of space! :(“

Thus, you conclude that you can see them the best; you can always choose which ones you want to see and they always run in a straight line: straight through your timeline and those parallel to it. Maybe because you’re one of the Heroes of Time or some shit like that. Maybe the troll girl can see them, too, but you don’t ask. Striders don’t ask stupid questions. Period.

You pestered John about it once, and he told you to follow it; Jade said the same. You don’t dare to ask Rose in fear that she will psychoanalyze the shit out of you. You decide to leave the string as is.

“Why don’t you just follow it?” Terezi once asked. You stopped in the middle of drawing a road for Can Town.

“The last time I did that, I lost a bet and something important.” The blind troll girl merely nodded and continued to help the Mayor stack his cans.

You maintain a poker face as you remember that incident.

Way to go, Strider, way to bring up the past. Striders don’t fucking think about things past, we only focus on the present and future. What would Bro think? Oh, great, now you’ve brought up that memory again…

 

“What the fuck,” you say as you look around you. You’re in. You’ve gotten into The Game. “Well, let’s get this on the road then, because this game isn’t going to play itself.” It was then you notice something on your hand.

The hell is this. You stare down at your right hand. There, tied around your pinky finger, is a red string. Wow, are you fucking serious, what is this, some kind of shitty anime? You can just imagine the sparkles and roses and some voice in my head saying “follow the red string of fate, Dave-kun!”

You decide to follow the red string. For irony’s sake, of course.

As you prepare to set off, another flash of crimson catches your eye. You look down at your other hand. Aw, hell no. Tied to your left pinky is another red string, but this one is different; it kind of wavers, slightly fading like an old television set with shitty reception.

As you’re thinking of which thread to follow, you really do hear a voice in your head, accompanied by a flash of bright neon green. The words tear through your mind like a streak of lightning.

Choose…

“What?” you manage to grit out through clenched teeth. The searing pain from the green lightning has rendered you immobile.

Choose which fate you want to follow, Dave Strider.

“Do I look stupid to you or something; of course I'm going to choose the easy-to-see string. I bet the other leads me on some puzzlecock of a conundrum like when Alice followed that white rabbit down the rabbit hole. Obviously, I’d be Alice and you’d be the Mad Hatter or some shit, watching me as I make a complete cryptodick of myself. You’d have a grin on that riddling face of yours as you tuck the truth behind a mystery behind pursed lips that won't be loosened even if I cry and beg.”

Wise gamble, Dave Strider…or not.

You swear you can hear a grin in those words, but you won’t be swayed by it. When a Strider says he’s going to do something, he gets it done, even if it leads him through Hell and back.

You are a Strider and you will do just that.

Don’t be sorry when you lose the bet.

You get on your feet and set off for the second time, following the red thread tied to your right hand, shoving the one on your left into the back of your mind like a vague memory.

But no one said following the clearer thread would be easy. It led you on a merry little ride through the “Land of Trouble and Danger,” as well.

It led you through lava and floating platforms.  
It led you to meet a crazy, blind troll girl.  
It led you into a boiling cauldron, almost cooked alive.  
It led you meeting yourself from a different timeline.  
It led you to create an orange-winged sprite.  
It led you to a coin toss with an unknown result.  
It led you on a short adventure with a time-traveling troll girl.  
And finally, it led you…

“Oh my fucking God.” You sank down on one knee. “Bro…”

Your brother lay motionless and dead on the ground before you, impaled by his own sword. The red string of fate had brought you into a Hell you never imagined. You could see the thread intertwining the two of you around his limp hand. You wanted to scream, cry, or break the façade of coolness you had so carefully built up, and yet you refused to let a shred of emotion escape.

Striders don’t show emotion.

It’s something Bro taught you and you were not about to let all his teachings go to waste just because he was no longer alive.

You thought about pulling the katana out from his chest, but quickly changed your mind. Only heroes pulled swords out.

John is a hero.  
Bro is a hero.  
You are not.

You attempt to break the sword, but you can’t. Your futile attempt to do so resulted in a face-plant to the ground with Terezi trolling you, telling you to get up.

This is so completely illegal.

“This atrocity cannot go unpunished.”

You gambled and you lost.

You wonder why you just said that stupid thing you said. Wait, no, that wasn’t just you, you realize as a nostalgic flash of green invaded your thoughts.

Throw whoever is responsible into the slammer.

“Get the fuck out of my head; can’t you see I'm grieving over here?”

Take a note of that important principle.

“Holy shit, why do I care about that suddenly?”

Because I am deputizing you even though you are a kid.

“More shit.”

Which I think is forever.

“Shut up.”

Bring the criminals to justice, young deputy.

“Fuck you.”

Each mutinous agent must pay for their crimes.

“I have other duties to attend to,” you reply, but by then, the presence had disappeared.

After some time of lying on the ground, giving dismissive replies to Terezi’s pestering, you finally get up to leave.

As you are walking away, the red string of fate on attached to your right hand breaks, leaving only a red ring still around your finger, a small knot, and a short segment waving in the wind.

Any remaining thoughts about the thread still attached to your left hand are pushed out of your mind.

You no longer believe in shitty fairytales.

 

“Everybody? Excuse me, are you listening! I would like to introduce you to someone,” you snap back into the present as you hear the spider troll girl — Aranea, was it? — call for everyone’s attention. She’s lecturing the fish troll Meenah, but you aren’t really paying attention. Something…no, someone has your attention. John? You know you’re wrong, but you can’t help wondering.

“Rose,” you whisper, “who’s that John-looking kid.”

“I think it’s young Father-Grandad Harleybert,” comes the confusing reply.

“What,” you deadpan.

Then suddenly “Grandpa Egbert Juniordad” is beating the shit out of Meenah.

“Ka pow! Take that!!!” He has the fish troll pinned to the ground and is beating her furiously, yelling something about “fish Hitler” and “destroying my people.”

“Jake, stop!” Aranea screeches, but he doesn’t cease.

Oh, so his name is Jake, you think to yourself as you watch him pound the crap out of Meenah. You have no objections to this. You, yourself, along with Kanaya and Karkat, had tried to stab, cut, and slice Meenah just a few moments ago. As you watch Jake’s fists fire off punches like a Gatling gun, you notice something: a red string of fate wrapped around his right pinky finger.

Your attention is drawn to it like moths to a flame, as it rises and falls with his punches. You follow it with your eyes concealed behind shades, your face a mask of indifference. The thread makes several loops around Meenah (probably from the tackling), goes under Aranea’s red shoes (hey, those are kind of like Dorothy’s red slippers), crosses Terezi’s path (not like she can see it), disappears slightly behind a flickering orange specter or some sort (just going to ignore that), and…

…loops itself daintily around your left pinky finger.

“Oh my God,” you whisper under your breath. Rose turns her head to stare inquisitively at you, but you pretend you don’t notice.

This can’t be happening.  
Actually, it isn’t.  
You know it isn’t.  
Because you don’t believe in shitty fairytales.

“An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break…”

…unless you fucking break it yourself.

You watch as Aranea whacks Jake on the head with Meenah’s trident.  
You watch as Jake disappears back into his timeline.  
You watch as the red thread shoots off into the distance once more.  
You watch as you forcefully disintegrate it with your mind.

If you’d known that you could do that, you would’ve done it earlier. Okay, maybe you couldn’t do that before, but now that you’re a fucking God of The Game, you can. But it would’ve been nice if you’d been able to do that in the beginning of The Game. That way you wouldn’t have had to bet against the neon green voice.

And you wouldn’t have gambled and lost.

You were destined to meet Jake; the meeting has already happened. Maybe the two of you were destined to do more things than just the simple meeting. Maybe the two of you were supposed to team up and completely destroy The Game. Maybe the two of you were meant to be friends. Maybe the two of you were meant to be something more.

But that’s another destiny for possibly another Dave. You’ve already pushed it out of your timeline. You’ve broken anything that would be or might have been.

Yet you can’t help but wonder what could have been.

But you’ve already learned your lesson.

You will never again gamble and lose.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bunch of mistakes in it, but I'm so done with this, I don't want to even look at it.


End file.
